


Find Strength in Pain

by RobinsonsWereHere



Series: Perfectly Balanced [3]
Category: Psych
Genre: AU, Angst, Episode: s05e16 Yang 3 in 2D, F/M, Team as Family, episode AU, family as Family, henry wants his son back, i've looked it up and jules has literally textbook PTSD, jules gets revenge, lassie is a good brother, lots of hurt and some comfort, maddie was never just going to sit there and wait for the SBPD to fix things, this causes many problems, too many tags, yin doesn't die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 16:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere
Summary: "I know my call, despite my faults, and despite my growing fears."- Mumford and Sons, The Cave(or, Yin doesn't die when Yang poisons him. it's up to Juliet to save Shawn and Gus, and then it's up to Lassie and Henry to save all three of them. It's night like these when Karen feels that her job is less an honor and more some sort of cosmic punishment.)





	Find Strength in Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest single chapter fic I've ever written! It just... wouldn't be broken up. IDK what to tell you. If you didn't read the tags, there's blood and violence ahead, and also spoilers for the s5 finale. You have been warned.

When his partner left the observation room, Lassiter thought about following, but he didn’t. He thought about asking if she was okay, but he didn’t. She almost certainly didn’t want to talk about it, and would only brush off any inquiries with a non committal response or an impermeable ‘I’m fine’.

Besides, it was O’Hara. She was fine.

When they found the yin-yang in Spencer’s bedroom, O’Hara briefly turned white as a sheet before assuming a neutral expression emotionless enough to rival Lassiter’s own. Again, he played with the idea of offering support, but lost the chance when Yang and Spencer started bickering. Instead, he listened attentively to the serial killer and tried to ignore the haunted look in his partner’s eyes.

Besides, it was O’Hara. She was fine.

When Yang told them she knew a way in but refused to be accompanied by anyone other than Juliet, Lassiter just about throttled her. In disbelief, he looked from his partner to the chief, certain one or both of them would object. “O’Hara, I have a bad feeling about this,” cautioned Chief Vick. Lassiter nodded in agreement, but Juliet shook her head slightly and set her jaw.

“I can do this.” Carlton wanted to object, wanted to go with her, wanted to put a bullet in the grinning, giggling psychopath, but he didn’t. He just gripped his gun tighter and began to pace. He focused on the fact that there were over a dozen officers present, compared to the one serial killer. And the battering ram was almost here; they had no reason to worry.

Besides, it was O’Hara. She’d be fine.

“We lost contact,” says the chief, but that’s not what Lassiter hears. He hears that his partner is at the mercy of this man _again_ and he’s not there to help her _again_ and if she dies this time, it’s on him because why the hell had he let her go in there in the first place, let her follow a known killer into the clutches of another one? The detective curses, his tone bitter and angry. Several officers take a step back. By contrast, the chief steps forward. “Carlton,” she says quietly, the word intended to bring him back to reality. He knows what she’s doing because he’s seen her do it before, but only in dire circumstances. First names from the chief mean something is very wrong and she’s worried he’s going to do something foolish or drastic.

“Why did I let her go in alone?” he growls.

“You didn’t let her do anything. She’d made up her mind; you weren’t going to change it. It’s O’Hara we’re talking about,” Karen points out, but this doesn’t make it better.

It’s O’Hara. It’s his fucking _partner_. Once again, he doesn’t have her back when she needs him. She’s not fine, and it’s on him for not doing something earlier.

>>>>>>>>>>

Juliet grapples with Allison on the floor of the basement, struggling to pin her to the ground. The college student is stronger than she looks, and definitely not a damsel in distress. As Allison reaches for the shotgun, Juliet grabs whatever’s closest to hit her with. This turns out to be the door of a refrigerator. The door connects with Allison’s head, sending her back to the concrete once more. Allison howls with rage and bucks underneath Juliet, throwing her off. She doesn’t make it far, however. The detective draws her sidearm but instead of firing, pistol-whips the younger woman across the back of the head. Allison crashes through the glass coffee table and Juliet aims her gun to discourage her from moving, but it’s unnecessary. She’s out cold.

Juliet grabs her radio off the ground, but at some point it has gotten crushed. She shakes off the sudden shiver that runs down her spine. This is no time for fear; she has two serial killers to find and a boyfriend to save.

“No time like the present,” she mutters, climbing the stairs.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Shawn watches in disbelief as Yin envelops Yang in his arms. Briefly the psychic wonders how Yang had gotten here in the first place, but he’s soon distracted when she plunges the syringe meant for Gus- _no, don’t think about that, if you think about how close a call that was you’ll really lose it-_ into Yin’s chest. The older of the two psychopaths collapses back into his chair and gasps for breath. Shawn gapes in shock. Unfortunately, it’s too good to be true. Yin pulls the needle from his chest, wincing only slightly. Placing it on the desk, he frowns at Yang. “My dear, you should know that when a killer who has any sort of a brain in his skull plans to poison someone, he builds up an immunity to that poison. After all, one must always plan for one’s plans to go horribly awry.”

Next to Shawn, Gus’ brow furrows. “Why are you speaking in third person point of view? No, that’s not even third person, it’s like, some weird, detached, passive third person.”

Shawn chimes in more to distract Yin from Gus than out of any real desire to speak. “Also, why would you plan for things to go wrong? Then you have to double-plan. That’s way too much work, man. Just do what we do, and don’t plan at all.”

Yin chuckles darkly. The worst part about it, Shawn thinks, is that it sounds genuine. _He’s actually enjoying this. Wow. Yang was right, he_ is _worse than her._ The psychic is snapped out of his thoughts by more words from Mr. Yin. “Well, Shawn, I could do it your way, but at the moment, you, without planning anything, have been tied to a chair, whereas I, after much meticulous planning, am in control of the situation.”

“But you didn’t plan for _me,”_ argues Yang.

“Yes, I did, my dear. Your attempt at betrayal is of little consequence. Now, since you have so inconveniently kept me from poisoning Mr. Guster, you have a choice to make. Help me kill them both, or I’ll kill you as well.”

“Your own daughter?” Gus exclaims. “That’s messed up.”

The serial killers ignore him. “Daddy, I knew you’d be upset with me,” says Yang in her most girlish voice. “Let me make it up to you?” _Well, this won’t be good,_ thinks Shawn.

“How do you intend to do that?”

“I knew you didn’t want the police in here, but I needed a way in,” she explains. “Remember the detective you didn’t get to finish with last time? I brought her.”

Whatever Shawn had been expecting, this is much worse. For a moment he freezes, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Then he begins to thrash against the chair, ignoring the zip ties that cut into his arms. _”Don’t touch her,”_ he snarls, trying to rip himself out of the chair. “Yin, if you so much as _talk_ to Juliet I swear to god I will tear your fucking face off!” 

He shuts his eyes for a few seconds, trying to banish memories of the previous year, of Juliet’s voice shaking as she read them the riddle over the phone. And it’s not just that. He’d learned the hard way, soon after they started dating, that she still has nightmares. She still wakes in the middle of the night screaming, pushing him away in the moments before she realizes who he is. She’s barely recovered from her first battle with this psychopath; he doesn’t want her to go through it all over again. He can’t let that happen. He can’t.

Yin had smiled at Yang’s revelation, and now, at the sight of Shawn’s clear distress, the smile turns into a full-out grin. “Oh, this will be fun,” he croons. To Yang, he says, “You’ve done quite well, my darling.” Shawn lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a growl and a scream or anger.

“Don’t touch her,” he repeats.

Yin sneers at him, then takes an old pistol from his desk drawer and presses it to Shawn’s temple. “You are not the one calling the shots, Mr. Spencer,” he reprimands. Then he laughs. “Get it? Shots?”

“You’re sick,” spits Gus, glaring at him. Before Yin can respond, the door bangs open.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Juliet kicks open the door and aims her gun at the tall man standing directly in her line of vision. She knows, without a doubt, that this is Yin. “SBPD, hands where I can see them,” she orders.

Yin chuckles, and the all-too-familiar sound makes her blood run cold. “Detective O’Hara, how nice of you to join us,” he says. “Would you mind lowering your weapon?”

She notices with a jolt of fear that he’s pressing a pistol to Shawn’s head. _Oh, god._ “I think you should lower yours,” she retorts. She doesn’t meet Shawn’s eyes. If she does, she’ll lose the last vestiges of calm she has.

“Detective, let’s be clear: I will _enjoy_ putting a bullet in your lover’s brain. I quickly grow bored of this kind of thing, and if I’m bored, I am that much more likely to pull this trigger for the fun of it. Please bring your gun over here and place it gently on the desk.”

Juliet glares at him in such a way that is seems as though he should combust, but she does as he asks. If she’s shaking now, it’s not from fear. It’s from pure, unadulterated fury.

...and maybe a bit of fear.

Once the gun is on the desk, she’s standing between Shawn and Gus, but not between Shawn and Yin, which is where she’d like to be. “Jules, are you okay?” Shawn asks, twisting in his chair to look up at her. 

The detective almost laughs. “There’s a serial killer holding a gun to your head, and you ask if _I’m_ okay?”

“You’re bleeding,” he points out. 

Juliet shrugs. “Glass coffee table. It’s no longer in one piece.” Then, she folds her arms across her chest and turns to Yin. “Let him go,” she demands.

Yin smiles. It’s unsettling. “That’s the thing about guns,” he answers. “The person with the gun is also the person with the power.”

Juliet narrows her eyes. “Clearly you’ve never been through the Police Academy.”

“Oh? And what do they teach there?”

Instead of answering, she punches him in the face.

>>>>>>>>>>

Henry has to weave through three squad cars, push past over a dozen officers, and climb over a barricade before he finds Lassiter. Even if his son wasn’t currently facing off against at least one serial killer, that would put him in a bad mood. “Lassiter!” He calls. Once he’s got the detective’s attention, he lowers his voice, stepping closer. “We need to get in there,” he mutters.

Lassiter gives him a derisive look. “Oh, really? Wow, I didn’t realize that. I’ve just been yelling my head off at underlings and trying to locate a battering ram for the fun of it,” he retorts, clearly sarcastic.

“No, I mean _we need to get in there,”_ Henry hisses. Lassiter frowns; he still doesn’t get it. Henry groans, frustrated. “O’Hara went in through a root cellar, didn’t she?”

“Yes…”

“How much work would it take us to find it? It can’t be that far!”

“Vick would skin us alive.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you! Do you want to find your partner or not?” Lassiter’s expression goes cold, his eyes burning into Henry’s and for a moment, he fears he’s pushed too far. But Lassiter doesn’t shoot him, thankfully. 

“You live in the neighborhood. Where’s the most likely entrance?”

“This way,” Henry mutters, and they stalk off, unnoticed by any of the SPBD.

>>>>>>>>>

Juliet kicks Yin’s gun away as soon as he drops it, but she doesn’t have time to grab her own. Her punch had knocked the serial killer to the floor, but now he stands and and advances towards her. “Is this still about the clock tower? It was just a bit of fu-” Juliet decks him again; it’s very satisfying. He pushes off the wall and lunges at her, growling. She only intends to push him to the side, to get him on the ground and cuff him and read him his rights, but then he touches her. He gets a hand on her arm, and she sees red. She doesn’t think, she just devotes all of her energy to getting him _off._ She will not play his game again. 

Juliet throws Yin off of her and through the third-story window. There’s an audible shattering of bones as he hits the pavement below.

>>>>>>>>>>

Karen strides purposefully through the swarm of officers, who part like the red sea before her. In reality, she doesn’t have a purpose and there’s really nowhere she has to be, let alone at such a speed, but if there’s one thing she’s learned as Chief of Police, it’s that no one questions you if you act like you know what you’re doing. As for the speed, she can’t do anything about that. When she gets nervous or stressed, she does everything faster. Useful for cram studying in school, but not so much now. The chief pauses as something, or someone, rather, catches her eye.

“Dr. Spencer,” she says, “What-”

Madeline cuts her off. “I know, this is a crime scene and I’m a civilian, but Henry texted and said he was going in to get Shawn. I can’t just sit at home and do nothing, and I can follow crime scene protocol.”

“Of course, you’re welcome to be here as long as you stay out of the way,” Karen assures her. “But… Henry hasn’t gone in there. We haven’t broken through yet; the only person who’s gone in is Detective O’Hara.” _And look how well that turned out._

Maddie frowns. “How did she get in?”

Karen begins to answer, but she’s interrupted by McNab. “Um, excuse me, Chief?”

“Yes?”

“Have you seen Detective Lassiter? He wanted to be notified of any developments with the battering ram… it’s going to be almost thirty minutes late.”

Karen thinks for a moment, and several pieces fall into place. She pinches the bridge of her nose, then sets her hands on her hips. “They had damn well better not have,” she growls. Madeline and McNab regard her with confusion. Ignoring them, she reaches for her radio. “Lassiter, Spencer, come in,” she barks.

“Roger, Chief,” comes Lassiter’s grudging reply. 

From Henry, she gets a more hesitant “...Karen.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, reminding herself that firing them will not fix the situation and will only make her feel better for a short period of time. “Lassiter, I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you can’t keep going AWOL every time O’Hara is in danger!”

“It was Spencer’s idea,” protests Lassiter.

“You never told us we _couldn’t_ try to find the cellar ourselves,” adds Henry.

Karen clenches her jaw. “If I tell you to stay put and wait for backup, will you listen to me?”

Their replies are simultaneous. “No.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m coming after you. Where is it?” They give her confusing and conflicting directions, but eventually, she has a general idea of where to go. As she checks that her gun is loaded and prepares to follow, another thought occurs to you. “Gentlemen, if this does not end well, there’s a good chance both of you will face serious consequences.”

“Copy that, Chief.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before.”

Karen paces toward the back of the house, toward the cellar, toward _actually doing something instead of just sitting there_ (no matter what she’s told Henry and Lassiter, it does feel better to act) but is stopped by the sound of shattering glass.

A man falls through a third-story window and snaps his neck on the asphalt not ten yards away from her. She doesn’t recognize him, but it must be Yin. He’s clearly died on impact, so she ignores him. “O’Hara?” She calls up to the now broken window.

“Hold that thought, Chief,” comes O’Hara’s voice. So she’s still in trouble, but she’s alive and kicking. That’s something.

“O’Hara’s alright for now,” she says into the radio, heading double time for the root cellar. “I’m headed your way.”

>>>>>>>>>>>

Juliet grabs Yin’s gun from the floor and turns back to face the occupants of the study. Her stomach drops as she hears the sound of a pistol being cocked and sure enough, Yang has picked up Juliet’s own gun from where she’d surrendered it on the desk. “I’m impressed, Detective O’Hara,” Yang says, her voice dark yet sickeningly sweet. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! Who’s side are you on!?” Shawn demands.

“Yang, drop the gun,” Juliet orders, pointing Yin’s weapon at the psychopath. It would be more convincing if she wasn’t sickened by the thought that Yin had touched the very gun she now holds in her hand.

Yang only laughs. “You know the difference between cops and serial killers?”

“I can think of several.”

“Cops always carry fully loaded guns, but killers… they only load as many bullets as there are people they want to kill.”

Juliet tests the heft of the gun in her hand, and sure enough, it’s magazine is nearly empty. She’d guess there’s only one or two bullets loaded. Then again, she doesn’t need a full cartridge. It’s possible she could incapacitate Yang before the psychopath pulled the trigger…

The door opens again and a very pissed off Allison points her shotgun at Shawn. Now Gus is the only one who isn’t staring down a barrel, and he’s not exactly in a position to do anything about it. Allison looks from Yang to Juliet, then smiles. “You’ve already got a gun on her. Huh. I guess you’re not as useless as we thought,” she says. Continuing to scan the room, she frowns. “Where’s the old man?”

“Detective O’Hara threw him out the window,” Yang says quietly. Her expression is growing rapidly darker, and the sugary tone has disappeared from her voice. Juliet’s not too confident that she won’t pull the trigger just for the hell of it. The detective squares her shoulders, seized by a new determination. She will _not_ be killed by a bullet fired from her own gun. All she has to do is talk her way out of this. It can’t be too hard; Shawn does it all the time. She takes a deep breath. _Carlton, I hope you’re coming with that battering ram._

>>>>>>>>>>

Lassiter and Henry are on the first floor of the house when Karen catches up to them. Although it’s dark; they aren’t hard to find; she can hear them arguing from a good distance away. Cursing under her breath, she slips through the doorway and meets them at the foot of the stairs.

“Feeling a bit loud tonight, are we?” She says testily. They both jump and then try to act as though they’d known she was there the whole time. Karen resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Alright. Now that we’re doing this, we’re doing it the right way. Stay quiet and fall in line,” she orders. “Oh, and both of you can be sure we’ll have a discussion about your poor decision-making skills at a later point.” Lassiter sighs and Henry winces. She turns and motions for them to follow her, and the three of them start up the stairs, guns held aloft. Which brought up another point- where had Henry gotten a gun? Karen sighs and shakes her head.

One of these days, at least one person on her team will follow the rules, but today is not that day.

>>>>>>>>>>

Juliet needn’t have worried about stalling for time; Yang and Allison are doing a magnificent job of distracting each other without her help. “This has gone on long enough,” Allison insists. “They all need to die. At this point they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

Yang shakes her head. “Not Shawn,” she argues, and Juliet feels just a bit of relief, and then she feels horrible for being relieved. “I want Shawn alive,” continues the psychopath. “ You can’t handle all three of them by yourself. You need my help.”

What happens next is such a small movement that anyone without Juliet’s training and expertise would have missed it- as it is, Juliet almost does. Allison turns to face Yang, and the barrel of the shotgun drifts slightly to the side. It’s no longer pointed at Shawn. Juliet moves on autopilot, muscle memory from academy obstacle courses and days at the shooting range kicking in. She shoots Allison in the side, in such a way that the bullet either lodges in her gut or just grazes her hip- the detective doesn’t pause long enough to check. Allison falls back and the shotgun clatters to the floor, but Yang is still standing. Juliet moves in front of Shawn and hauls Gus out of the way, too, but during the time it takes to do so, she’s no longer holding Yang at gunpoint. The serial killer fires just as the door flies open once more, only this time, the people on the other side aren’t aiming their weapons at Juliet, which is a nice change of pace.

“SBPD!” Yells the chief.

“Drop your weapon!” Lassiter adds.

“Shawn!” Henry calls.

Juliet exhales in relief. It’s over. They’re safe. She’s alright. Yin is dead. She closes her eyes and leans on Shawn’s chair for support. They’re safe. She’s alright.

>>>>>>>>>>

Henry doesn’t even wait for Karen to call “clear” before he rushes to his son’s side. He crouches in front of the chair, his eyes roaming over his son’s body to assess his injuries. “Shawn,” he breathes.

“Dad.”

Henry frowns at Shawn’s zip-tied wrists, which are raw and bleeding. “Shawn, I thought I taught you that if you were ever tied up with zip ties, you shouldn’t struggle.”

Shawn’s gaze is far away and his voice is hoarse when he speaks. “He was going to hurt Jules.”

Henry sighs and continues to comfort his son as he pulls out his swiss. “Hold on, Shawn, I’ll get you out of this.” Behind them, he can hear Karen and Lassiter checking on Detective O’Hara.

“O’Hara, are you alright?” Lassiter asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” she responds.

“You’re bleeding,” says Karen, and Henry sees and feels Shawn tense in front of him.

“I got a bit scraped up in the basement- Allison attacked me, that’s when we lost contact.”

“O’Hara,” ventures Lassiter, “There’s a bullet hole in your shoulder.”

Shawn starts struggling again, and Henry swears as his wrist scrapes against the knife blade. “Shawn, can you sit still for ten seconds? I damn near just slit your wrists!”

“I’m fine, Shawn,” Juliet assures him.

“Lassie just said you got shot!”

“Uh, yeah…”

“What happened to Yin?” Lassie asks.

“He got what was coming to him,” O’Hara responds.

Henry finishes freeing Shawn and moves on to Gus. Shawn immediately bounds up and joins the pair of detectives on the other side of the desk. “Jules threw him out a window,” he explains.

Lassiter nods. “Alright then.”

“It was an accident… that being said, I don’t regret it,” Juliet says quietly.

“You did what you had to do, O’Hara,” says Karen, placing a hand on the detective’s shoulder.

Gus is much better at sitting still than Shawn, so it’s easier for Henry to cut him loose. He, too, walks over to the larger group. “Uh, is there any reason we need to stay up here any longer?”

“Nope,” says Lassiter. “O’Hara did the hard part.” He slings an arm over her shoulder in a move that looks casual, but Henry knows him well enough to realize that if he’s seeking physical contact, he’s been really shaken by the past few hours. Of course, spending those hours with the head detective had already brought him to that conclusion.

“C’mon, Yang, you don’t have a bullet in you, you don’t get to be carried out on a stretcher,” snaps Lassiter. ”Although if you’d prefer that, I could make it happen.”

“Lassiter,” warns Karen.

They all file out of the study and start down the stairs. “Sorry I shot your girlfriend, Shawn,” Yang says.

Henry snorts. Shawn scoffs in disbelief. _”That’s_ what you’re sorry for!?”

“Wait. Girlfriend? What?” Lassiter asks.

“I’ll explain later, Carlton,” Juliet sighs.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Shawn nearly melts into his mother’s embrace as soon as they make it out of the house. She wraps her arms around him and his father, their differences forgotten in favor of rejoicing in the fact that their family is safe and whole. Shawn pulls Gus into the hug and they stay like that for a long time. After a while, when Maddie is finally satisfied that all three of them are intact, and Henry has berated Shawn and Gus for doing stupid shit that almost gets them killed because he doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost them, after Gus has gone for an exam by the medical team, Shawn finds Jules. She’s talking with Lassie, her arms folded over her chest and her gaze icy, but nobody’s yelling, so that’s good. When she sees him, she smiles and moves quickly to his side.

“Hey,” he breathes, his fingers skating over the laceration on her forehead.

“Hi,” she replies, leaning into him. “So, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

“Yeah.” His fingers move down her face until he’s tilting her chin up to look her in the eyes. “Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

“Yes, please.” He doesn’t waste any time, pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers. When they break apart, he doesn’t let go immediately.

“Are you okay?”

Juliet lets out a shuddering breath. “No. Not yet. But I will be.” She’s still leaning on him, and neither of them particularly wants to move.

“I’m right here,” Shawn murmurs into her hair. “I’m safe. You’re safe. We did it.”

“We did it,” Juliet repeats, pulling away a bit to look at him. Her eyes drop to his chest, and she frowns. “Oh. I got blood on your shirt.”

Shawn tugs gently at her blazer to get a better look at her shoulder. “Yeah, you should get that looked at.”

She gives him one more peck on the lips. “I will. Come on, your wrists need to be taken care of too.”

>>>>>>>>>>

Lassiter stands still in a scene that has become a blur of movement. And yet, he can still pick out other points of stillness.

Nobody has bothered to remove Yin’s body from the asphalt below the window. Lassiter knows it’s a person, but when he looks at it, he can feel nothing but a grim satisfaction.

Henry and Madeline Spencer are standing next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, but they do not speak. Observing the way they seem to use each other for support, Carlton wonders idly why they’d divorced in the first place.

Chief Vick is almost always moving, so it seems doubly odd to him that she is not now. She leans against an empty cruiser, her head in her hands. Chances are, she’s unaware that anyone can see her. Lassiter understands her position; he too feels that if he stopped to think about everything for more than a few seconds it would overwhelm him.

Spencer and O’Hara sit side by side on a makeshift exam table. Their fingers are laced together even as the paramedics bandage O’Hara’s shoulder and apply ointment to Spencer’s wrists. Carlton cannot fathom why his partner would be interested in the half-witted, definitely-not-psychic liar, but apparently what he can or can’t wrap his head around has nothing to do with it. He sighs.

Guster walks up to him. “Thanks,” he says. “I heard you disobeyed orders and broke about a hundred rules to get to us.”

“I disobeyed orders and broke about a hundred rules to get to _O’Hara,”_ Lassiter corrects. “...but I’m glad you’re alright. You’re a good guy.”

“Wow. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Guster deadpans.

“I don’t do ‘nice’.” 

“You’re more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kinda man.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

The head detective takes another look around the scene. It helps with the choking feeling of despair to know that this is what victory looks like. He should feel elated, he should be relieved that they’d finally dealt with both of the Yin/Yang killers, but right now, he’s just exhausted. He feels like he could go home and sleep for the rest of the day. But no, he’s got to wrap the case up first. He’d better get on that. “You good, Guster?” He queries, preparing to go back into the fray and resume barking orders.

“I’m better than I was.”

Lassiter gives a wry smile that has no real emotion behind it. “That’s something. Nobody says it, but you don’t just go from ‘bad’ to ‘good’. Especially after something like this.”

Gus nods, and his small smile is far more genuine then Lassiter’s. “It’s a bunch of smaller steps, huh? Like hiking a mountain.”

“Like hiking a mountain.” It’s a good analogy, Carlton thinks. It’s something to motivate him. And they could all use a little motivation, after that. He paces across the driveway toward the medics and his partner. For now, the desire to ensure everyone he cares about is alright is motivation enough.

 

_~fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you'd leave a comment or a kudos, I'd love that!


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